


Or Which I Cannot Touch Because They're Too Near

by niklitera



Series: Nobody, Not Even the Rain, Has Such Small Hands [4]
Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: And Jacking Off, Canonical Transgender Character, Comforting Ned, Demisexual!Jacob, Dysphoria, Forehead Kisses, Hugs, Jacob Does What He Wants, M/M, Panic Attacks, Period-Typical Transphobia, they talk about sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niklitera/pseuds/niklitera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ned had never been intimate with anyone, so when Jacob shows up in London, he begins to wonder what it feels like.</p><p>(Or, the one fic where Jacob is demisexual and Ned just wants to know about his sex life.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Or Which I Cannot Touch Because They're Too Near

**Author's Note:**

> OFF TO AN EXAM BBBBYE

Ned had forgotten what it was like.

There'd been a time, way back, when he thought that everything would be just fine. He could pass for a man, he got called the right pronouns and nobody forced him to be ladylike, to stop swearing, to wear what was appropriate. Prostitutes and thieves did not care what you wore, and sometimes they didn't even care what coins you had if you could provide good conversation. But they did care what you had under your pants.

He hadn't weighted the options well enough before running away. He hadn't thought that perhaps he'd never be able to enjoy a form of intimism couples shared once the kisses weren't enough.

He hadn't even had a kiss.

And then - then he came, and with him came so many complications and so much more than the simple desire of watching someone who was aesthetically pleasing. Because Jacob was handsome, and he was tall and broad and he had a smirk that made all logic fly out of the window. So at first it'd been that he was handsome and, well, Ned could work with that.

He worked even better when the assassin turned out to be a cocky dimwit with the emotional capacity of a teaspoon and the precaution of a newborn puppy. The messes made in London, the talk on the streets, the new gang taking over the Blighters - he'd turned the city upside down and when Ned watched it burn he saw the colors of passion and incomformism and a wish for true freedom.

That was when it turned dangerous.

In a police box, trapped and handcuffed and thinking, 'Well, this is it. It's the end of me,' only to be jerked around and hear his voice had been his undoing. How dare he save him? How dare he go out of his way to stop him from being arrested? How fucking dare he?

How dare he care? Ned would've never thought a month ago that the one to learn about... about him would be Jacob Frye, official Assassin and Pain On His Constant Back. And not only did he find out what Ned was but he... understood. He understood and he took it as it was and he treated Ned just the same.

Hours later, days later, weeks later, and yet Ned had to see a change in Jacob's behavior. He had yet to hear a mention of the newly added wagons that he'd bought on an impulse after learning his parents were well and alive and gone. But Jacob didn't mention them, say thank you or even point it out. Things were natural with him, with them. It unsettled Ned until it suddenly didn't. That was when the trouble truly began.

He'd awoken that morning with bleary eyes, a dry throat and an insane heat between his legs. Ned had been confused at first, narrowing his eyes. Then he realized what it was and he was not surprised that his butler ignored him as he spat out curses and threw various decorations across the room.

Because no, no, he could not let himself think like that. About anything. About anyone. He wasn't... allowed. It brought up so much discomfort, so many dark thoughts. Because he knew he got hysterical if he thought of what really was between his legs and of course he could pass for a man but he could never -

And that was all Jacob Frye's motherfucking fault.

So that afternoon, when he waltzed inside his house as if he owned the place, commenting on something he really did not give a fuck about at the moment, Ned glared. His butler and maids has been quick to learn in that way that there were some days when Ned could just take a pipe into your head if you said something wrong, and today was one of them.

Jacob did not get the hint.

"You seem a bit grouchy today," he suddenly said, leaning back against the wall of his office.

And wasn't it just fucking peachy how it made him look goddamn perfect? How the afternoon light tinted his hair slightly red, his scruff made him look messy in the most delicious way possible and his smirk made Ned want to push him to the floor and ride him like his most expensive steam-powered train?

"I fucking hate you," Ned seethed.

Jacob blinked, "Sure. Alright. Do you want to go out for drinks?"

"What?" the thief frowned at him, startled. "What the fuck, Frye?"

"Look, I don't know what's wrong, obviously," he rolled his eyes. "But if something went askew today, I wouldn't mind going somewhere with you so you can whine about whatever's bothered you."

"I don't whine," was Ned's immediate response. He ignored the fact that his heart was about to soar from his chest. It wasn't fucking fair.

"Alright, you don't whine," the assassin chuckled. "But really, Wynert. Come on."

He had to be attractive. No, really, he just had to, didn't he? He had to be an irrational, childish, uncaring anarchist who suddenly turned into the perfect man the moment he came in contact with Ned putting up a barrier of anger and resentment. 

"I'm not in the mood," was his final reply.

But it came out not like he wanted it to - cutting, annoyed and final. It was undecisive, hesitant and a little bit miserable. He really was not in the mood. He had a lot of papers to sort out, and his sexual frustration was only growing the more he looked at Jacob. 

"Can I ask what occured to make you feel this way?"

Ned's head snapped up from his papers and it felt like a punch in the stomach to see Jacob standing right in front of him, leaning down, hands on his expensive desk and it had to be illegal to be that attractive, right? Right?

"Things," he mumbled.

"I thought you said I was the child," the brunet laughed.

"You are," Ned shifted in his seat, trying to reign control of his emotions and other complicated feelings that might ignite a flame he couldn't control.

He really had not expected to see him today. He'd said he had this mission or other for Darwin, one that, thankfully, did not involve exploding another Soothing Syrup factory and making a scene. So how was Ned supposed to face Jacob when in the morning he'd woken up with images of them ondulating under the stark white sheets of his bed, keeping them both warm?

His face flushed, and he stood quickly, making Jacob lean back with a now worried frown on his face.

"Really, Ned, you know you can talk to me about anything, right?" he approached the American, hand lifted as if to touch him.

And Ned did want that touch. He did. He craved it, wished for human contact, for the cold to stop seeping into his very bones and for a smile to stop hurting so much. The effortlessness that was being around the British was unsettling, alarming, and he did not wish to do something stupid and regret it for the rest of his life like... like falling in love.

"I," here came the word vomit. He'd been doing that too often, Christ. "I have never... been touched."

"What?" Jacob frowned. "Yes, you have, I touch you all the time."

Oh, Ned wished he did.

"No, I mean," the enterpreteur made an awkward hand gesture. "Uh, in that. In that way."

"Oh," Jacob's eyebrows shot up.

Ned expect him to start teasing and joking. Maybe offer to do touch him because it was Jacob and he never took anything seriously.but of course he didn't do that, but Jacob did take things seriously - his things. His troubles and worries and why had he let himself think that telling the assassin this had been a good idea?

"Forget it," Ned snapped when Jacob opened his mouth. "It was stupid, anyway, I don't even know why the fuck did I tell you this, why don't you leave a - CHRIST, FRYE!"

The shriek was not manly, but Ned was rigid and frozen and he couldn't believe Jacob Frye was fucking hugging him. A legitimate embrace, from the back and fuck, his arms were gracing his breats and he could feel the panic rising on the back of his throat.

"Let me go," he whispered, sweat pooling between his shoulderblades.

"I'm embracing you!" he laughed. "Thought this was what you wanted?"

"LET ME GO!" he shouted, and Jacob immediately stepped back.

Ned stumbled away from him, rounding his arms so he could hide his chest. His breasts. Fuck, this was not how today was supposed to go. His face burned with embarrassment and shame - couldn't even let someone wrap their arms around him now. How was he supposed to ever experience an intimate relationship?

"I'm sorry," Jacob began, but Ned shook his head.

"Get out," he mumbled.

He felt... disgusting. Like ants were crawling beneath his skin, a sort of discomfort that only his own body could bring him. His blood was pulsing wildly in his veins, and he pressed his arms tight enough that he had trouble breathing. He hated this. He hated his body, the slopes of it and the swelling and the monthly reminder and Christ, he couldn't fucking breathe.

"Ned? Ned, listen to me."

He was still here. Still reminding him. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't see. Ned shut his eyes tightly and wished, not for the first time, that he'd vanish. That it would all disappear in the blink of an eye and he could breathe out, he could find peace somewhere. That he could have a body that fit him right and he hadn't had to run away and -

Then he felt a sting on his cheek and he focused his eyes on Jacob, who gave out a sigh of relief.

"Did you just fucking slap me?" he seethed.

"It worked, didn't it?" was the cheeky reply he got, but Jacob looked too worried for it to have any strength. "You were panicking. Thankfully, you didn't jump put of any window."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Ned spat.

But he was grateful.

He refused the offered hand, as always, and stood up with shaky legs. When he was finally to full height he realized he was only a foot away rom the assassin.

It didn't trigger anything, because Jacob was, in fact, not touching him at all. But he was close, and he could smell him. And, to his great surprise, he smelled of poppys and clean cotton. Poppys.

Out of anything in the world Jacob Frye could smell of, he had not expected goddamn poppys.

"What happened?" he eventually asked the smaller man.

"I panicked," dry, to the point. Yes, Ned was not distracted by how easily he could get on his toes and kiss him. 

"You know, I think you should tell me when you're starting to panic from now on," Jacob chuckled, a wide, amused smile spreading on his lips. "Because it seems you do all sort of crazy things under pressure. Could I convince you to join my Rooks?"

"No," Ned rolled his eyes.

"It was worth a try," the other shrugged. "Now. Mind telling me why exactly did you panic at that? You did say you wanted something tactice. You know I'm a hugger."

"That you are," Ned scoffed. "But next time you attempt to do something for me, please warn me. I thought I had made it pretty clear that I am not comfortable in a female body."

"Is it really so terrible?" Jacob frowned.

"Absolutely," Ned shook his head, taking off his hat to run massage his temples. "It's uncomfortable, awkward, and you never know what frustration really is until you can't even look at yourself in the mirror."

"Never touched yourself, eh?"

Ned jumped, looking at Jacob with a horrified expression as the former laughed wildly, even slapping his goddamn knee as if he was a kid. Ned merely glared at him, trying to ignore the heat taking over his face, ears and neck. 

"Fuck you, Frye," he spluttered. "You're a child."

"But I'm right," his eyes took a mischievous glint. "Oh, this is priceless. You're grumpy because you're randy!"

"T-that's not true!" Ned gaped.

"But it is!" Jacob snickered. Then a sudden frown took over his features. "Oh, but that must be terrible. Christ, I can't imagine that."

"I do not want to talk about this," Ned mumbled.

"It's just sex, Neddy-boy," Jacob let his back rest against the wall. "It's... what it is. Some are obsessed with it. That's the way the world works."

"That's easy for you to say," Ned looked away. "Bet you've laid with half this city."

"Me?" Jacob laughed loudly at that, and Ned frowned. "It will surprise you to know that I have only had sex once. And that boy broke my heart."

"What?" Ned's neck protested as he turned his head quickly to look at Jacob in utter stunned surprise. "Are you serious? But you act like a whore!"

"Thank you?" an amused smile danced upon his lips. "I flirt. That's all I do, and it's all in good fun. I do not wish to sleep with someone I do not know, Ned. That is not how I work."

"How do you work, then?" the American asked curiously.

"Are you asking me how I masturbate?" the British gave him a toothed grin and Ned shook his head, serious.

"No, I... I'm asking you what it takes for you to sleep with someone. How do you... start something like that? A kiss or a good roll on the sheets? How is it?"

Jacob stared back at Ned, his brow furrowed and his eyes filled with a few emotions that the latter could not place. Then he sighed and took off his own tophat, pulling on his ear. It was a nervous tick he'd taken to, Ned noticed. He did that when Evie seemed angry, or when something wasn't working the way it was supposed to. 

"Well," he began, hesitating before he shrugged a little, eyes trained on his hands holding his hat, turning it around. "I've seen people sleep around. I know it's normal for them to do so, but I sincerely cannot think of doing that with a stranger. I'm not a picky man, mind you. I just need... something else. I don't see sex as a way of obtaining pleasure but as... as something someone should share with one who can truly understand you and your body, you know?"

"I didn't expect that from you," Ned watched the tophat, too. 

"Most don't," he chuckled.

"Who was that boy?" he blurted without thinking. "The one who - the one who broke your heart, I mean."

"No one," Jacob straightened, looking a little pained. Ned cursed internally. "Look, I'm sorry I forced that hug on you, I was just - I went to the Asylum today."

Ned turned his hands to fists, feeling anger boil inside him. Jacob bit his lower lip and if he hadn't mentioned that damn place, Ned would've probably climbed him like a tree.

"You saw them, didn't you?" Ned whispered.

"Yes," Jacob turned to look at him. "I... had no idea."

"They call it Gender Identity Disorder," the enterpreteur scoffed. "I've tried to sabotage that place for years."

"I... did."

Ned, for the second time, turned fast to look at Jacob.

"What?" he murmured.

"I've taken it down," he grinned a little. "Some experiments going on. Without the Soothing Syrup and now with their main surgeon dead... well, they don't have anyone else to go to. They're shutting it down."

"Are you serious?" Ned grinned, and without knowing it, he'd moved.

He'd moved and it was automatic and he was laughing and his arms were around Jacob's waist and his chin was over his shoulder. He froze, unable to speak because it had been automatic and he hadn't even thought about it when moments ago he'd been hysterical over it.

"I -"

"Shut up," Jacob told him, his own arm coming to rest around his lower back while the other one rested on the back of his neck, pulling him closer. "You did this, I'm keeping it. Deal with it."

"This is strange," Ned frowned.

"No, it's not, you're just saying that because you don't want me to know you've got a heart," the assassin's voice was right on his ear.

Christ, Ned could feel him. Could feel his hard, warm body and the cold that he'd felt for so long seemed suddenly a very distant memory. He debated a few thoughts for a moment before he tightened his grip and let his temple rest on Jacob's shoulder, his talons falling to the floor once more.

He didn't know for how long they embraced, only that he felt his body being relieved of years of tension as Jacob rubbed his back, his fingers bumping into the bandages under his clothes but he felt no panic as he did so, no anxiety. Nothing but warm, soothing calmness.

He was half-asleep when they finally pulled away, and the biggest surprise was when Jacob gazed at him, took his shoulders firmly and planted a very slow, very soft kiss on his forehead.

"What the -"

"I get your first forehead kiss," he grinned. "Guess who gets to brag, now?"

"Frye!" he shoved him away, glaring deeply.

But Jacob was running, jumping out of the open window and shooting his hook to leave away, probably leaving something for Ned to repair later. The businessman screamed at the open window for a while, threw his papers down, made an overall childish tantrum and tried very hard not to blush at the thought of what had just began today.

The dreams did not stop that night, either.

In fact, they were only sweeter.


End file.
